Felt
by LayAtHomeMom
Summary: Former lovers lay it all out on the table. Taking shots never hurt this good. Entry for the Dirty Talkin' Edward Twific Contest
1. Chapter 1

**Rating M**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers owns all things Twilight - I just like to get them dirty.**

**Special thank you to Team DirtyLayLovinYummyMaven which consists  
****of my favorite fiction enthusiast and fellow Triangle of Curls Girl Heather Maven,  
one of my absolute favorite authors in the fandom Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy,  
and my dear friend and lovely beta, Lovin Rob who jumped me into this fanfiction gang.**

**This O/S was my entry into the Dirty Talkin' Edward contest.  
Huge thanks to TwiSNFan for selecting this entry as the Secret Keeper's Choice.  
**

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"Sorry, we're closed," he shouts over his shoulder while wiping down the bar with his back to me.

"How about just one drink?" I ask with a pout. I see his shoulders tense slightly as he recognizes my voice. "You know, for old times' sake?"

He turns slowly and unleashes his signature smirk on me.

"Long time, no see, stranger," I say with a grin and a shrug as I sidle up to the bar. "Have time for a drink with an old friend?"

He nods and makes his way around the bar to pull me in for a hug. I wrap my arms around his waist, burrow my face in his chest and suddenly I'm eighteen years-old again. In an instant, all of the memories from our three summers together come flooding back to me. He squeezes me tight and places a soft kiss on top of my head before releasing me.

We smile and stare, regarding each other for a few moments. He looks the same, but older and maybe a bit taller and fuller throughout his body. He seems a little worn and tired, but God Bless America he is still devastatingly handsome. He chuckles and nervously runs a hand through his hair. I realize that I may or may not be leering, so I try to regroup.

"So how about that drink?" I ask playfully poking him in the rib.

He catches my hand and rubs his thumb over my palm. It's embarrassing that even the most subtle gesture from him can render me a smiling, tingling mess.

"You got it. Let me just lock up real quick."

His body brushes against mine as I go to take a seat at the bar. I hear the flick of the switches, the click of the lock and my heart starts beating a little faster. I don't look at him as he walks back around the bar. Instead I try to focus on the sights and sounds around me, like the twinkling Christmas lights above the bar, or the buzz of the neon lights in the windows. I'll do just about anything to distract myself from the nervousness and anticipation that has my entire body on edge.

"You still drink Boones Farm?" he jokes as he grabs a couple of glasses. "Or have you moved on to Mad Dog 20/20?"

I laugh and shake my head thinking about my younger self and how little it took to get a buzz.

"Let me make you something that I think you'll like."

I nod and watch as he moves around the bar to make my drink. He is totally in his element as every movement he makes is confident, sure and slightly cocky. We start playing catch-up as he tells me about how he's been running the bar since Carlisle's heart attack last year. Edward's in the process of putting together the financing to buy him out. I don't miss when he looks up slightly to gauge my reaction. I guess this is Edward's way of letting me know he's putting down roots here in Forks. I smile brightly and tell him that I'm happy for him. This must please him, because I see him smirk as he drains the drink into a glass and tops it off with soda water.

"Here, try this," he says, handing me the cocktail.

I take a sip and the moment the cotton candy vodka touches my tongue, I know exactly why he chose this drink. I swallow it down and lick my lips as he looks on.

"It's delicious. What is it?"

"It's a Cotton Candy Collins," he says as he grabs a glass and a bottle of Johnny Walker and makes his way back around the bar to sit with me. "Do you like it?"

Cotton candy will forever remind me of the Clallam County Fair. I remember dreading the arrival of the fair every summer, because it signaled the end of our time together. He watches intently as I drink, and I wonder if he knows that I've made the connection.

The second our eyes meet, I know we're both thinking of the very last fair we spent together. The memories flash through my mind, and once again I am twenty years-old and looking over the brightly lit fairgrounds from the top of the double Ferris wheel. I remember climbing higher and higher into the starry night and opening my thighs for him. I can still taste the cotton candy on his lips and see the look on his face as his hand disappears beneath my skirt. I swear I'm still able to feel his fingers as they slip into my panties to tease my clit. My skin tingles at the memory of his breath against my ear and the gravelly timbre of his voice as he whispers filthy things that to this day make my nipples harden and my thighs clench.

"_Spread those legs just a little bit further, baby._

_I need to make sure that you're nice and ready for me._

_I can't wait to get you alone tonight. I'm gonna work that pussy over._

_You gonna let me, Bella? Huh?_

_You gonna let me make you feel good?"_

"Of course I like it," I smile and take another sip. "Cotton candy reminds me of the fair." Images of foggy windows, sweaty limbs, and joined hands from later on that evening in the fairground parking lot invade my mind. "Been to the fair lately, Edward?"

He lets out a small laugh, shakes his head and pours his scotch. "So, how have you been?"

I give him an abridged version of the past five years of my life. I cover the basics like college and grad school. I skim over inconsequential things like my summers spent in Arizona and Jacksonville and hope he doesn't ask why I haven't come back to Forks until now. I regale him with tales of my mother and her much younger husband. He still gets a kick out of my Renee stories. God bless my mother, but she is a round-trip ride on the hot mess express.

Edward makes me another drink as we move on to discuss Charlie and his recent marriage to Sue Clearwater. He tells me that he doesn't see them much since Charlie retired. I have a pretty good buzz going so I don't want to ruin it by telling him about overhearing my father and stepmother belly slapping this morning. I shudder as I remember hearing my father's gruff voice shouting out, "_Yeah girl". _I try to drown the memory by guzzling my drink like a lush. This causes Edward's eyes to widen slightly as he prepares drink number three for me.

"Your turn," I tell him as he pours two more fingers into his glass.

He gives me an equally condensed version of his past five years. He notes the important stuff like graduating from college, his two-year stint in New York and a nice overview of what his day-to-day life is like now that he's running the bar. He tells me that he bought the old Mallory place a few blocks over and that he's in the process of remodeling. My mind immediately wanders to how he'd look wearing a tool-belt over low slung jeans, wielding a power tool. I slip further down the rabbit hole when I start to recall all the fun I had with the power tool in his pants. I feel my eyes drop to his crotch and wonder if his dick is a little fuller and standing a bit taller these days as well.

"Bella?" He sounds concerned as he waves his hand in my face. "Are you still with me?"

"What? Yeah. Um," I stammer like a jackass. "I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I asked how long you are in town for."

"I'm not really sure," I pause awkwardly and measure the next words out of my mouth very carefully. "I'm just trying to figure things out."

"Figure things out?" he asks as he leans in and raises an eyebrow at me.

I nod hoping that he won't ask me to elaborate because I don't have an answer for him. In an ill-advised preemptive strike, I take a long unladylike swig from my drink, causing it to dribble down my chin.

"Shit!"

I spit, trying to catch it when I suddenly feel his thumb glide over my chin and brush across my lip softly, wiping the liquor up as it goes. His eyes are on my parted lips as his hand lingers on my cheek for a few moments. When he pulls back, I admit I'm disappointed. That is, until he slips his thumb into his mouth and sucks off the excess.

I watch as he takes a long pull from his drink and slumps back into his chair, no doubt pleased with the effect he has on me. He moves his leg to prop his foot on the bottom of my bar stool. Although our legs are barely touching, it somehow feels intimate with his knee comfortably resting between mine. That's how every touch feels when I am with Edward.

"Got anyone special waiting for you back home?" he questions while picking at the label of the scotch bottle, purposely not meeting my eyes for the first time this evening.

"No," I reply quietly. I brace myself for impact when I get the courage to ask the same question. "You?"

I see the corner of his mouth turn up as he shakes his head slowly in the negative.

"Have there been others?" I blurt, but it comes out sounding like an accusation. I inwardly cringe because I sound utterly certifiable. "I mean, like, anyone serious?" I amend quickly. "As in marriage potential?"

He brings the bottle to his lips and shakes his head again. He gulps down the liquor and clarifies. "No one special."

_What in the ever-loving fuck does that mean? _

"How about you?" He tilts his head and gestures towards me with the bottle. "Have there been others?"

I notice he doesn't add the marriage piece to the question. I hate that I can't tell him that there have not been others over the years, so I tell him the same truth he told me. "No one special."

He rubs his hands over his jaw as he considers this for a moment. He grins knowingly as he raises his glass for a toast. "To no one special."

One toast turns to two, then three and four as we continue our drunken trip down memory lane. All of our stories seem to start with '_remember when'_ and '_whatever happened to'_ and become more elaborate and animated as we go. We laugh and laugh and inch closer to each other with every memory we revisit. His knee is now locked firmly between my legs and he's holding my thigh to balance himself as he leans in.

"Do you ever …" he stops abruptly and shifts back in his seat. "Never mind."

"What?" I say as I playfully slap the top of his leg and shamelessly slide my hand up. "Do I ever what?"

"Do you ever think about us?" He questions quietly, catching my hand and bringing it to rest against his chest.

_All the time. _I shrug indifferently and keep my eyes focused on our hands.

"Answer the question."

I quirk a brow at him, letting him know that I don't particularly care for the tone of his voice. His jaw is set and I know he has no intention of softening his previous command.

"What about us?" I reply coolly, not entirely sure I like the direction the conversation is heading.

He scowls, clearly not satisfied with my response and waits. I roll my eyes and pull my hand from his grasp to cross it over my chest.

"Yes. I think about us. Happy?" His expression stays too neutral for my liking and I can't stand the awkward silence that follows. "What about you? Do you think about us?"

He sits, unmoving for a long while before slowly nodding his head.

"I do. More often than I'd like to admit," he takes a quick pull from the bottle before continuing his thought. "Like… what happened? Why did you just up and stop talking to me the week after you went home?"

I stare at him in disbelief. I can't be sure if it's the liquor or five years worth of pent up anger that causes my temper to flare, but the words feel justified as I spit them out harshly.

"I don't know, Edward. Perhaps it's because we were young and dumb. Or maybe because I was gone for a millisecond before you moved on to the next willing pretty, young _thang_." I narrow my eyes and go in for the kill. "Or should I say 'thangs'? How many girls went on that joyride with you, Edward? Hmm? I was always so curious for the details. You know how Jessica Stanley likes to give you just enough so you cry yourself to sleep at night."

"Joyride?" He questions looking genuinely puzzled.

"Yeah, joyride. Let' see if I can remember the particulars. You, Bree, Mike, Jane and Jessica. A bottle of Peach Schnapps and the Port Angeles police," I lean forward and sneer. "Ring any bells?"

"I remember it. I'm not sure why you'd stop talking to me over it," he shrugs indifferently and adds. "I don't understand. Why was it such a big deal?"

I slap my hand on the bar causing the bottles to rattle.

"Are you for fucking real? If you'd have heard about me riding around town with a gaggle of guys, you would have driven down to Tempe and motherfucked me in person."

He scoffs at my statement, but he doesn't deny that if the shoe was on the other foot that he would've lost his shit. I am feeling as loose as a goose, so I let the shit fly.

"Now correct me if I am wrong, but joyriding for us meant driving fast down the one-oh-one with your cock in my mouth. See what I'm getting at now?"

I sit back in my chair looking and feeling appropriately smug while crossing my arms over my chest. His face goes from zero to furious in an instant. There are two things that Edward Cullen and I do better together than anyone else, that's fucking and fighting. And right now, judging by the look in his eyes, I'd say he wants to do a little of both.

"_I'd_ never do that to you. Although, I noticed it didn't take you too long to get together with the tool with the blonde ponytail and the puka shell necklace, now did it?" He finishes with a self-satisfied nod and raises the bottle in mock tribute.

I roll my eyes at the thought of my time with James. I'm certain it's the only time in my life that I truly lost my mind. For me, James embodies the perfect storm of what happens when a sad, depressed girl goes to Starbucks and any dude plays any song by John Mayer. I'm not proud of it.

"I didn't date him for months after we stopped talking," I defend before angrily draining the last of my drink.

"Uh yeah, I know. But there I was pining away and trying to figure out why you wouldn't take my calls or answer my emails. So imagine my surprise when I sneak onto Emmett's MySpace page like a fucking sexual predator and see pictures of you with dreadlocks and a hemp necklace clinging to that stroke."

I start laughing mid-drink and the cotton candy scented liquor burns as it comes out of my nose. I know the exact picture he is talking about. It is from when James took me to a Phish concert during my granola phase. He laughs too and hands me a napkin. The tension is alleviated somewhat as we both sit back and study each other.

"Did you ever look me up? Or try to find me?" he asks reaching for my hand again. I shake my head _no_ and look from our hands to his eyes.

"Why not?" he whispers.

"I don't know," I lie, "I guess I didn't want to see." I try again, though my words are only somewhat untruthful this time. "I just, don't know if I could handle hearing or seeing you….happy."

I hate how it sounds, but it's the God's honest truth. The only thing I could say to make the statement more true is if I add '_with someone other than me_'.

His brow furrows a bit as he processes my words. "You don't want to see me happy?"

I shake my head furiously. "No, I don't mean it like that. Like, obviously I want you to be happy. But to see you, married or involved with someone else, it would…" I pause trying to come up with the perfect word. _Gut me? Destroy me? Devastate me beyond belief?_ "Well, I think it would… _irk_ me, you know?"

He stares dumbly. "It would _irk_ you?"

"You know what I mean." I feign annoyance and slap my hand against his chest.

"I do," he replies as he grabs my hand again and gives me his easy smile. "It would probably _irk_ me, too."

He moves our hands over his heart, pulling me closer to him in the process. Too close. It's like the air around us is crackling with lust and anticipation.

"So. We agree then?" he asks, looking at me earnestly as he entwines our fingers.

I shoot him a confused look because I have no idea what we need to agree on. He throws his head back as he laughs at my baffled expression, before spelling it out for me.

"We were young and dumb and didn't know any better."

"Definitely," I answer softly.

It's probably true anyway. We'll never know if a long-distance relationship would have been the end of us or not. It's possible that we were only meant to be summer lovers…then. He releases my hand and pours us a couple of shots before proposing another toast.

"To being young and dumb."

"To being young and dumb," I reply as we clink our glasses and shoot the liquor.

He slams the shot glass on the bar and abruptly stands.

"Be right back," he tells me, planting a kiss on my temple as he walks away.

I watch as he heads to the back of the bar and disappears. I take the opportunity to get up and check out the old place. I can't remember the last time I was here, it's been ages. This is where I got my first job waiting tables and also where I met Edward. I grab the bottle of Cotton Candy flavored vodka, because I don't have to be lady-like any longer and make my way around the bar. Everything appears to be the same. All the same signs, pictures, and Forks High School sports uniforms still line the walls. The only thing new I notice is the addition of a pool table. I run my fingers along the felt as I walk by.

"Never knew you were a pool player," he says as he sneaks up behind me and rests his chin on top of my head.

I nearly jump out of my skin. I swear my heart stops and it's not only because he scared the shit out of me. It has more to do with the fact that his chest is pressed tightly against my back and his hands are on my sides tracing small circles over my hip bones.

"I've never played," I reply, leaning back against his chest. I close my eyes and focus on how good his fingers feel on me. "Do you want to teach me?" I suggest- albeit a bit suggestively.

He softly trails his hands up my arms to my shoulders before stepping around me. Towering over me he tilts my chin up and quirks the corner of his mouth to give me a panty-ruining grin.

"I'd love another first with you."

He walks backwards and watches as I process his words. He knows damn well that he had almost all of my firsts, well, the important ones at least. Images of him hovering over and inside of me on a beach at Lake Crescent hit me full force. To this day, I don't recall the details of the act itself, like the pain or how long it lasted. I just remember how he looked at me when he pushed inside and how we both trembled at the closeness.

I want that. I _need_ that feeling again.

"Go grab a cue," he jerks his chin towards the rack of sticks, startling me from my memories. I watch as he arranges the balls and places them on the marker, before moving around the table.

"Come here," he waves me over.

I approach slowly, placing the vodka bottle on the edge of the table. His hands find their way to my hips again, shifting me so I'm in front of him.

"First thing I need to teach you is how to break."

"Okay," I quietly comply as he takes my hand and places it on the cue, bending me forward across the table. My back is once again flush against his chest as he directs my movements.

"You need to get a good grip on the stick," he instructs, wrapping his hand around mine to make sure that I'm grasping it firmly. "There you go, just like that."

He positions my other hand in a fist in front of me, sliding the cue between my knuckles,

"Run it back and forth just like that," he whispers low against the shell of my ear. "Smooth and steady strokes." I feel my face flush and my skin prickles with excitement at his nearness. "Let it glide over your fingers."

I try my hardest to focus on the ball as he continues coaching me, but all I can think of from this position is him sliding into me. Rearing the cue back, I feel his lower half shift against me causing my skirt to creep up, and a desperate moan to escape my lips. We miss the ball completely as the cue drops to the felt.

"Jesus, Bella," he rasps against my hair as he lifts off of me to help me right myself on the edge of the table.

His hands seize my face and his lips barely brush mine as he starts speaking slowly against them.

"Five years is an awful long time, isn't it Bella?" I nod and press my forehead to his, desperate to get closer as he begins trailing his finger over my jaw line. "I used to know your body like the back of my hand. All the little things that got you hot and turned you on." His mouth moves against my cheek. "I knew the ways to touch you and the words to say to get that pussy all worked up for me."

I moan loudly and clutch the bottom of his shirt, pulling his lower half to where I want him most.

"You remember that, Bella? Remember how fucking good we were together?"

"God, yes!" I pant, "So good."

"So fucking good," he murmurs against my ear, "You want me, Bella?"

"Yes," I hiss as his fingers trail down my chest to pluck my nipple. My hand slips from the hem of his shirt to cover his hardening cock. "Anything you want. Whatever you need."

"Anything I want, huh?" I swear I hear the smile in his voice. "What if I want you to be my dirty girl, Bella?" he asks as he slides his tongue down my jaw and across my bottom lip. "Hmm? Are you gonna let me do all the nasty things I want to do to you?"

"_Anything_," I repeat, a little more desperately this time.

His hands find their way to my hair as his mouth covers mine in a hard, passionate kiss. We pour everything we've felt over the past five years into the kiss. Love, lust, anger, bliss, urgency – it's all there in every twist and turn of the tongue.

"Fuck!" he grunts pulling away breathless. "You know what I want, Bella?" he asks grabbing the bottle of vodka. "A little taste."

He pours the liquor over the front of my shirt, saturating the thin material and exposing the pink flesh of my stiffening peaks. I gasp at first from the unexpected chill, then from the heat of his mouth as he roughly sucks the booze and my nipple through the fabric.

"Delicious," he teases as he repeats the action on the other side.

It's all too much for me to handle. I'm quickly losing control, completely lost in his scent, the memories, and the feel of him taking me this way. I fist my hand in his hair pressing his face further into my chest.

"Fucking missed these tits," he mutters rubbing his five o'clock shadow against them. "You used to love to let me get at them." His eyes meet mine as he flattens his tongue and runs it all over my entire breast. "You still do, don't you?" He pulls both of my nipples, stretching them and rolling them gently between his thumb and forefinger. "Let's see if I can get them nice and hard." He captures my nipple again, drinking up more of the vodka, grazing and tugging it with his teeth. "Almost there." He tells me as he drags the strap of my tank lower, uncovering my breast. I fully expect him to begin lapping at them again, but instead he blows on the already chilled flesh.

I whimper pitifully and wrap my legs around his waist, desperate for friction.

"Not yet, baby," he coos in my ear. "I need to get reacquainted with that pretty little pussy of yours. Give her a little kiss 'hello'." His voice lowers. "I'll bet its better than I remember, too."

My lips find his again and this kiss is different from the first. Long, loud and deep. It's like we're consuming each other. Rediscovering what was lost and relishing being found. He pulls away abruptly and walks to a nearby table. I run my finger over my now swollen lips and irritated chin and watch as he pulls a chair over to sit in front of me. He says nothing as he undresses my lower half slowly, taking his time dragging my skirt down my legs.

I close my eyes, feeling his mouth hover over my panties before placing a small, sweet kiss against my clit. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as his fingers begin to lower my panties, making me shiver all over. I think I hear him mutter a quiet _fuck_ as he positions my legs on his shoulders, no doubt seeing my pussy completely bare for the very first time.

"God damn this is a pretty pussy," he muses, spreading my lips wide and causing my clit to stiffen in anticipation. "Do you want me to please this pussy, Bella?"

I swallow and nod, not bothering to open my eyes. Well, that is until he taps my clit with two fingers.

"Answer me!"

"Yes," I all but beg.

"How? How do you want me to do it?"

I open and close my mouth, finding myself unable to articulate all the ways I want him to _please_ me.

"Are you being shy now?" He pauses slightly and lowers his mouth so it lingers just above my clit. "I thought you were going to be my dirty girl." I nod furiously because I want to be his dirty girl more than anything. "A dirty girl would tell me if she wants to get fucked with my fingers or my tongue. So which is it?"

I try to lift my hips in offering, but he pins me down, needing to hear me say the words.

"You want me to eat that pussy until you scream, Bella?" he groans against my inner thigh. "Or do you want…"

"Both! Christ, use both!" I demand, reaching down to grab his hair again.

Using only the tip of his tongue, he teasingly slides it up and down my clit over and over again before dipping and plunging it inside of me. He starts slowly increasing the pace of the circuit until he's lapping and sucking me into a full-on frenzy.

I tighten my hold on his hair and frantically try to push his face further against me. His hands grab a hold of mine and push them until they're against my stomach. He laces his fingers in mine and I notice he is looking up at me from below. Somehow the gesture becomes far more intimate than we initially intended it to be. The tender moment ends when Edward rubs his stubbly chin from side-to-side over my clit. I begin to tremble at the feel of the rough friction against my sensitive, slick flesh.

"You love that don't you? You love it when I play with that clit," his smile is appropriately cocky, because he's right, I do love it. I'm almost positive that the feeling of the scratchy, coarse hair on his face, coupled with the angle of his chin brings the most pleasurable sensation to my pussy. That is, until he bites down on my sensitive bundle of nerves and spanks me hard.

My entire body tenses and I tighten my grip on our entwined fingers. I swear it takes everything in me not to crush his head to my crotch and ride his face like a second place derby jockey in a photo finish. He has me close. So very, very close. I can feel my legs shaking and my toes curling. I'm almost there when again he stops suddenly.

"Not yet," he says kissing his way back up my stomach, circling my belly button with his tongue and tracing his fingers up my ribs as he goes.

"I want you to cum around my fingers," he mumbles against my shoulder and slips two long fingers deep inside of me. I mewl as I grind against the heel of his hand. I slide my hands up and begin slowly kneading and tugging on my nipples. "That's it baby. Tweak those titties for me."

His name falls softly from my lips. I throw my head back, getting lost in the pleasure of his crude words and teasing touches. His fingers continue pumping steadily inside of me, pressing and circling as they go. I quietly whimper when he cups my ass roughly.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself, Bella?"

I bob my head slowly and bite down on my lip.

"What do you think of? Hmm? Do you think about all the ways you let me have you?"

He pauses for effect and pushes his fingers a little deeper.

"You remember all those times you rode my cock? How you'd always start grinding slowly, squeezing my dick tight as you went? Is that what you think of?"

I gasp as he presses up roughly inside of me and starts spreading his fingers within.

"Or do you think about how I used to bend you over, Bella? Grabbing those hips and pulling that hair just how you liked it."

"Oh, God." I moan desperately.

"That really got you going, didn't it baby?" he says against the corner of my mouth.

"Mm hmm." I mutter incoherently.

He pulls me in for another heated kiss. This one is possessive and rough, causing me to moan loudly when he sucks my lip into his mouth. My hand roams over his chest, skimming lower and lower, until I reach his belt buckle.

"I want you," I say simply, hoping that he'll hear the urgency in my voice.

His eyes are on mine, staring intensely. I see him lick his lips and nod woodenly as he begins to loosen his belt buckle. Impatient, I start grabbing his shirt and try to pull it over his head. Within seconds he's naked in front of me, hard and ready.

"Lay back, baby," he says, fisting his cock and running it over my slit.

I lean back on my elbows because I don't want to miss any of this. His jaw tightens and I start inwardly giggling with glee. When it comes to fucking, Edward has two speeds – pure passion and fucking madman. God forgive me, I hope I get the latter.

"Pill?" He grits out from clenched teeth.

"Yes, just…please."

"Please what, Bella?" he asks gripping my thigh tightly. He's waiting for me to garner the courage to say the words he wants to hear.

"Fuck me," I beg quietly, closing my eyes at the feel of him sliding his cock over my slit.

His lips curl into a smile against the base of my throat before chuckling darkly.

"I'm not going to _fuck_ you, Bella," he tells me slowly as he skims his nose up and down my neck.

His hand softly ghosts its way from my thigh to my jaw before gripping my chin roughly. My eyes fly open and meet his. He looks like a man possessed as he presses his forehead against mine and clenches his jaw tightly. Every nerve ending in my body is standing on end when he speaks his next words to me.

"I am going to tear that pussy up."

I scream his name as he drives his cock deep inside of me. There is no teasing. No shallow dips or slow stretches. No easing it in tenderly to savor the splendor of being reunited. There's none of that because this isn't about that. This is about pleasing and punishing. Acknowledging and apologizing to one another for words left unsaid. This is not about reuniting. It's about reclaiming.

Forceful and frantic, he pounds into me causing me to wince and whimper with each stroke.

"So much better than I remember, baby," he grunts before running his tongue across my collarbone. "Tell me you love it, Bella," he demands before latching onto my nipple again. "Tell me you missed taking my cock!"

I pant and nod incoherently as he rocks into my body harder.

"I can't hear you, Bella," he bites the tender flesh of my neck and soothes it with his tongue. "I thought you wanted me to fuck you. You were begging for it," he breathes roughly against my cheek and grinds his pubic bone into my clit. He drops his voice low and brings it to my ear. "I thought you were going to be my dirty girl."

The plea gets caught in my throat as he starts fucking me mercilessly. I lift my hips to meet his thrusts and claw at his shoulder blades.

"That's it, baby," he rasps, nipping and biting his way down my jaw to speak against my lips. "There's my dirty girl."

I close my eyes as he continues to slam into me. His breathing is ragged, though I can barely hear it over the sounds of the shifting pool table and the clanking cue balls. He must realize I am close because his thrusts become erratic and choppy as my muscles start to tighten around him.

"You ready to cum, baby?" he asks, bringing two fingers down to slide against and circle my clit.

I throw my head back as he continues furiously rubbing against me. He repositions my leg to rest on top of his shoulder, increasing his pace with each and every thrust. I desperately cling to him as the pressure builds, digging my fingernails into his flesh. His expression is intense and determined as his eyes meet mine. With one last powerful stroke, he stiffens and I feel him pulsing as he empties inside of me. He collapses on top of me grunting against the side of my face and grabbing a fist full of my hair. The small tug and his final rough thrust are enough to send me over the edge. I squeeze my eyes shut and release a silent scream as every muscle in my body spasms and clenches violently.

We come down from our high quietly clinging to each other. Tender touches replace the raw need as he gently skims his fingers over my face. The throbbing ache is subsided for the moment.

"That was..." I can tell he is searching for the right words. "Fuck. So much better than I remember."

"The best," I say breathlessly.

I keep my eyes closed, enjoying how he softly entwines our fingers. I don't want this feeling to end.

"Bella?" He murmurs as he props himself on his elbow, peppering soft pecks on the sensitive skin of my shoulder.

"Hmm?" I reply absently, far too distracted to form a more coherent sentence.

When he doesn't answer right way, I turn to meet his gaze. He nervously flicks his tongue over his top lip and scratches the scruff on his jaw.

"So where does this leave us?"

* * *

**Good question Edward - where does that leave us? I have a few ideas - but no posting schedule as of right now. In the meantime, please go check out the other Dirty Talkin' Edward entries - they are all fantastic. **

**Fic Rec:**

**_One Day by RueforRegret_ - This WIP is absolutely owning me right now. It's got a little bit of everything - a must read in my opinion.**

**Thanks so much for reading, pals!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating M**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers owns all things Twilight – I just like to get them dirty**

**Special thanks to Carrie ZM for waving the beta wand on this bad bitch.  
****Shout outs and many thanks to Heather Maven and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy  
****for pre-reading and putting their pervy seal of approval on this chapter.**

* * *

It's all fun and games until you wake up on your bathroom floor with a massive hangover, your panties missing and third-degree stubble burns on your chin and lady bits. Run DMC's 'Mary, Mary' blares from my cell phone, and I know Mary Alice is calling for a full briefing on my evening. I can't go there right now – especially with her. I can barely process the events myself.

While Rev Run loudly contemplates why Mary is buggin', I scrub my hands over my face and feel the lovely tile crease mark across my cheek. I briefly consider crawling to the sink and pulling myself up to the mirror to survey the damage. I think better of it knowing I probably look a fright.

Instead, I start up the shower, strip down, and hop in. The steam surrounds me and burns the sensitive skin on my back, no doubt irritated by the roughness of the felt and the fuck. I run the tip of my finger over my lips to feel the delicious sting as the memories from last night come back full force.

His question weighs heavy on my mind and my heart. _Where does this leave us? _Closing my eyes, I can still see the look on his face as I answered his question with a shrug. The truth is that I have no idea. Walking into that bar last night, I can honestly say that I had no clue what to expect. Five years is a long time, but not a single day goes by where I don't think of him in some way or wonder what might have been.

They say that you always remember your first love, which is probably true. Most of the folks who make up this "they" are probably rational people who were able to move on with their life after their first love. Not me. Even five years later, it's still him.

It will always be him.

* * *

Forty-five minutes and two Advil's later, I hear the crunch of gravel and the beeping of a car horn. I peek out the door to see Rose fluffing her hair and inspecting her nonexistent crow's feet in her rear view mirror. As per usual, she's dressed to the nines looking like a million bucks even though she's driving a McCarty tow truck. Meanwhile, I look like a train wreck – like one of those people who get dragged out of their house on an episode of Cops. I make the mistake of pausing to fish my sunglasses out of my purse when Rose lays her hand on the horn.

"Move your ass, Swan!" she yells out the window. "I left Em alone with Mags – God knows what she'll talk him into. Let's go!"

Ahh, still the same ol' Rose. It's nice to see that some things never change.

Pulling myself into the cab of the truck, I don't even have the door closed before she throws it in reverse, and we are kicking up rocks as we turn onto Division Street. We barely hit the highway before she goes all _To Catch a Predator_ on me.

"Rough night, pal?"

I don't even have to look at her. I can feel her quirked brow and smug smirk which makes me want to smack her and yet simultaneously tell her everything.

"You could say that," I reply coyly, trying my hardest to focus on the blur of trees whizzing by.

I hear a snort, then turn to see her stifling a giggle.

"Well, I guess you could say that, but you really don't have to because your chin looks like Emmett's after he polishes off a bag of flaming hot Cheetos."

I pull my compact out in an instant, ready to retouch. As I meticulously pat my chin, I mentally pen a strongly worded letter to the makers of said dual foundation and pressed powder compact. _All day coverage my ass_.

She taps her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, but says nothing. Maybe I'm still drunk or maybe I just want someone else's perspective. For whatever reason, I decide to tell her everything.

"I went and saw Edward last night."

* * *

Rose kills the engine as we arrive at their place in Sappho.

"So let me get this straight. You go there on whim, defile the pool table-" She ignores my groan and continues her line of questioning. "He asks you where this leaves you and you… shrug?" I confirm with a nod and a stink-eye. She sees my stink-eye and raises me a bitch brow. "What did he do after you shrugged? Was he pissed?"

"I don't think he was pissed, per se." I wring my hands nervously as I remember how quickly he covered the hurt with a mask of indifference. "We just got dressed and he walked me home." The corners of my mouth turn up when I think of how easily we fell in step, holding hands in comfortable silence. It's like no time has passed. "Then he kissed me goodnight on Charlie's front porch."

I spare her the details on the knee-weakening kiss he planted on me before heading to the dimly lit street. I can't decide if it is the kiss or the parting words whispered against my ear that has my head spinning. _It won't take you long to figure out what you already know. I'll see you soon._

"That must have been some kiss," Rose says, studying me intently and snapping me out of my reverie.

"It was," I admit, flushing slightly.

"You two…" She clucks her tongue as she removes her seatbelt. "You've both wasted years." She pauses a moment and looks back at me. "Was it still there?"

"Was what still there?" I ask with a tinge of annoyance in my voice, not particularly enjoying the heaping helping of real talk that Rosalie is serving up.

"The connection. You know, the _pull_."

Rose believes that there are two types of connections in life and love. In her opinion, people are either drawn to someone or pulled to someone. I recall explaining to her that those are synonyms and therefore mean the same thing. The details on the difference are foggy to me, especially in light of my late-night activities.

"I'm sorry. Can you enlighten me on your theory with the synonyms again?"

She huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face like she is annoyed. I don't buy it for a second, she lives for this shit.

"I realize they are synonyms, but in this instance they mean something very different."

I gum my lips to prevent myself from making a snide remark and having to hitchhike back to Forks, but she's too quick. It's like she sees it on the tip of my tongue as her eyes narrow.

"The concept is fairly easy, Bella. The draw is a choice, the pull is not."

I chew on this for a moment, because _that_ makes perfect sense to me. My connection to Edward, then and now, is still as powerful as ever. Stronger somehow, even through the time and distance.

"I remember when Emmett first introduced me to you guys, it was crazy. You'd think you two had been together for years, not weeks. I mean," she looks at me seriously, seemingly at a loss for words. "I don't understand why you fight it."

The words are hard to hear, but the fact that she's right is even harder to bear. I do fight it. The urge to resist our connection is nearly as strong as the pull itself sometimes.

"Me neither," I mutter under my breath as my feet hit the pavement, and I slam the door behind me.

Time changes everything and nothing. The house looks exactly the same from the outside. It actually belongs to Emmett's dad who recently moved to Florida to take up residence with wife number three. Emmett now runs his father's automotive business, while Rose stays home with little Maggie who just turned one.

"He's so excited to see you," Rose says, slipping off her shoes near the entry as Emmett comes barreling down the hallway holding a giggling Mags upside down.

"Missed you, Bells!" he tells me, releasing me from a bone-crushing hug before turning to his female doppelganger. "Can you say 'hi' to Bella?" Shy, she twists to cover her face against her dad. "Uh oh, looks like smiles aren't free today."

"No worries, Maggie. I'm shy, too."

I step a little closer to her when she peeks at me from under her bangs and smiles. All the while, Emmett is studying me through squinted eyes.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

* * *

Rose pushes Maggie in the swing on the other side of the yard while I sit, nursing a beer, and giving Em a super watered down version of my sordid tryst. Although, he and I are the very best of friends and have been for many years now, he's not classified to receive the down and dirty details from last night. I can belch, fart, and curse like a sailor in front of him, but the thought of telling him I banged Edward on a pool table is too much. So I keep it simple like Dragnet, _just the facts, ma'am._

"So do you think I am a total idiot?" I ask, fiddling with the label on my beer bottle careful not to meet his surely judging eyes.

"Nah Bells," I look up to see him with his arms across his chest looking at me sympathetically. "I'm actually not surprised."

"Really?"

He shakes his head and pokes at the steak on the grill before continuing. "I mean, yeah. You're an idiot for the way you handled it." And great, here comes the 'I told you so' speech he's been writing in his head for five years now. "You didn't even give him a chance to explain."

"I know," I whisper, properly abashed.

"Did you tell him why you're back?"

I shake my head. "No, I didn't tell him about the job interview."

He tilts his head and snorts as if to say 'of course you didn't'.

"I just kind of wanted to see him, you know." I scrunch my nose and shut my eyes in frustration before adding. "Again."

"And ya' did, so now what?"

"I don't know. I mean, yes, I handled the break-up horribly. We chatted about it briefly and buried it," I say, thinking about our toast to being 'young and dumb'. "Or, at least I think we did. Either way, if I get the job and come back, which is still a big 'if' at this point, I just want to know that he and I can be… civil."

"Civil?"

"Yes, _civil_. I don't want to move to a town where I already have a sworn enemy." I try to say this with conviction in hopes that he doesn't recognize how truly transparent I am.

"_Right_." He draws out the word. "Well, given the rash on your face, I'd say you guys are long past civil."

"Emmett!" Rose yells across the lawn. "That flame is too high, you're burning the steaks."

Grabbing the spatula, he turns and points it at her. "Don't tell me my business, devil woman! I know how to cook a steak."

He turns to me, poking his thumb in her direction. "You hear this one?" Shaking his head, he closes the grill top and tries to stealthily turn down the gas. My giggle lets him know he's busted, but my full on belly laugh lets him know I've read his apron which says '_Rosalie and Emmett Cookin' Since 2004'_.

Domesticity looks good on my friend. I can tell he is as happy and relaxed in his new life as a husband and father as ever before . I think back to the moments of domestic bliss with Edward which mainly consisted of eating Hot Pockets, drinking beer, and watching him play video games for hours on end. That's before things got physical.

I remember everything about that first summer when things were so innocent and simple. Isn't that always true of the beginning? Talking all day and night about nothing in particular, learning each other's likes and dislikes, and reveling in each piece of common ground you find. It's the best feeling in the world as you fall deeper and deeper with every look and touch and word of affirmation. I can't even count the number of times I've wished that Edward and I could go back to that getting-to-know you stage. The phase just before the passion and intimacy take over and reason takes a back seat.

"You need to tell him," Em interrupts my thoughts, waving the greasy spatula in my direction. "About the job and how you may be coming back." I bite my lip and nod slightly. "How'd the interview go by the way?"

I sigh heavily because I honestly don't know. "It went fine I guess. It was super informal."

"It's the Peninsula Daily News, Bells, not the New York Times."

I laugh. "Uh yeah, I know. The Times wouldn't even give me an interview."

Sure, it's a rinky-dink paper in comparison, but there's just one perk that the Times can't offer me and that's proximity to Edward.

"So are you going to tell him or not?"

"Maybe if I get it, I don't know." I try to shrug him off with my indifference, but when I look at him seems disappointed. "What? What's with the face?"

"No face." He defends himself, holding his hands up in surrender. "I just think maybe the universe is telling you something."

"The universe?" I deadpan. "As in karma or kismet?" I joke, half expecting Emmett to laugh and do his Darth Vader impression saying '_It is your destiny'_, but he doesn't. Instead, he looks at me sadly for a few beats, and I start to fidget uncomfortably.

"Why'd you break-up with him in the first place?"

Shamefully in the wake of the break-up, I'm embarrassed to say that I avoided Em and Rose like the plague. Listening to reason or anyone defending Edward was not high on my priority list at the time. The truth is that Em and I have never discussed the break-up. For the past five years, we've each upheld the unspoken pact that we do not discuss Edward in any capacity. Well, until today that is.

I give him the same spiel I gave Edward last night about the joyride. Of course, Em sides with Edward saying that nothing happened, although he wasn't there at the time and can't possibly know that for sure. If I'm honest with myself, I know it's not the joyride that had me running. It's the words I play in my head over and over again years later. _'I thought about it. I seriously considered it. But I didn't.'_

"I'm going to go grab another beer, you want one?" I don't even look back or wait to hear his answer before I slide the door open, then shut it quickly behind me practically sprinting to the garage.

I can't seem to stop the flashbacks from the school year between our first and second summer from coming in rapid succession. First, it's the teary goodbye on my dad's front porch with whispered promises of calling and writing and maybe a visit in the spring. Next, it's memories of me in my dorm room, reading and re-reading the page long letters and emails full of declarations of love and hopeful plans for the future. And finally, it's the Wednesday and Sunday night phone calls that I remember living for at the time.

I suspect that we thought we were being mature for deciding to not be 'official' during the school year. Although, I know that in my mind I considered us 'unofficially-official'. Looking back, I think that was our way of not holding the other back while still staking our claim. It occurs to me that it may have led to our near undoing after the first nine months when our diligence to staying in constant contact waned, and our academic and social calendars demanded more of our time and attention. My stomach hurts thinking about those tense phone calls leading up to our reunion. I can still hear Edward's clipped tone and my defensive one in return.

I'll never forget the day I came back to Forks as much as I'd like to. I close my eyes as the memory becomes more vivid. In my mind, I'm that nineteen year-old girl again, excitedly waiting to reunite with her boyfriend after a year of being apart. Emmett is manning the grill, while Rose is passing out jello shots to guests as the party is in full swing. I check my watch for the hundredth time, worried because Edward was due back in town two hours ago. I consider calling Carlisle and Esme to see if he stopped in for a visit first. Just then, I see him coming around the side of the house laughing and chatting with a beautiful blonde girl who can't help but beam back at him. I feel my chest constricting because while they aren't touching, he graces her with a smile that I haven't heard in his voice in weeks.

Tears threaten to spill over when he finally sees me. His expression is unreadable to me. It's cold and indifferent and a far cry from the boy I gave myself to the summer before. The blonde notices he has fallen back and pulls on his arm seemingly excited to arrive with him at her side. The fact that he makes no move to remove her hand or refuse her possible advance is all I can take.

I push and shove my way through the yard up to the house, needing to be anywhere but here. I slip into the first open door I see and close it tightly behind me as the first choking sob rips through my body. Covering my mouth to quiet the cries, I mentally berate myself for ever buying into the notion that love is enough to sustain any amount of time or distance. I can almost hear Renee's 'I told you so' all the way from Jacksonville.

I hear heavy footsteps nearing the garage, and I scurry over to the far wall by Em's dad's prized 1949 Mercury Eight Coupe. I wipe my eyes and make sure I am presentable in the event that Rose or Em come to check on me. Laughter filters in from the nearby window, and I must be a glutton for punishment because I can't seem to stop myself from looking for Edward. Instead, I spot blondie giggling and chatting animatedly with a group of guys. Edward doesn't seem to be among them. When the door to the garage creaks open and closes just as softly, I know why.

It's amazing how quickly inconsolable sadness can turn to pure rage. He approaches me slowly, though I refuse to look at him.

"Bella," he whispers, and I detect a hint of the reverence in his voice that I've become accustomed to hearing for the past year.

I don't answer. And I don't turn around. I don't even draw a breath. I stay perfectly still staring daggers at his new reason to smile.

"Bella, look at me." I flinch when I feel his fingers brushing down my arms as he steps closer. "We need to talk."

I clear my throat and shake my head, ready to unleash my first line of passive-aggressive artillery. "We don't," I say, nailing myself to the cross in a textbook Renee move. The old 'I'll hurt so you can be happy' song and dance. "She's lovely, Edward." I turn to him so he can read both the sincerity and pain plain on my face beneath my tight lipped smile and teary eyes. "I understand."

His brow furrows as I tiptoe around him, making a quick and hopefully graceful exit, until he wraps his arms around me and turns us to face the window of the car door.

"It's not what you think," he murmurs against my hair. "The Volvo broke down a couple of days ago. She lives in Seabrook and offered me a ride home."

"What did you offer her in return?" I fire back tersely. He's quiet for several moments. His silence confirms my fear as I swallow thickly. "That's what I thought."

His grip tightens as I try to walk away, and he places his lips to my ear. "I didn't do anything." His eyes meet mine in the reflection for the first time_. _"I thought about it." He pauses, gauging my reaction as his words sink in. "I seriously considered it." The honesty in his confession makes my stomach lurch. "But I didn't."

His words should ease my mind in theory, instead, they enrage me and I unleash the crazy. Jabbing my finger in his chest, I blame him for our undoing, calling him out for pushing me away. He tries to get a word in edgewise between my shrieks and accusations while practically ripping his hair out from the roots in frustration. His fury is rolling off of him in waves. My throat hurts, hoarse from all the crying and yelling. Just as I open my mouth to continue my verbal assault, he beats me to the punch, placing his lips on mine in a hard, angry kiss. Our mouths clash brutally, the kiss speaking louder than our heated words mere minutes ago. The door handle painfully digs into my lower back as he forcefully pushes me up against the car.

Gone are the timid hands and tender touches of last summer. The sweet, soft swipes of fingertips give way to rough clawing, tearing at the flesh. His chest heaves as we pull away, and his hand cups my chin forcing me to face him. Our eyes lock fiercely, and his hand slips ever so slightly, brushing my throat, making its way down my chest. He tilts his head, and I part my lips thinking he's going to kiss me again. Instead, he speaks through gritted teeth.

"Get in the car."

He guides me onto his lap while his mouth finds my chest, licking and tugging at the tightening tips with his tongue and teeth. My fingers find his hair, fisting it in clumps and pulling in time with my hips as they grind over his growing erection.

His mouth spews absolute filth against my skin when his hand skims the near soaked fabric of my panties. I cry out when his fingers penetrate me, punctuating his point with his ministrations and his words that 'no one pleases this pussy' like him. It's such a sharp contrast to last summer when our love making was filled with caring coos and whispered promises of forever.

He strips me bare and orders me to show him. Make him see. Prove that the time and distance changed nothing about the way I feel about him. So I show him. I match every ounce of passion with my kiss. I make him moan, marking him with my nails and teeth. His pleasure barely masks the pain. I guide him inside of me, freely giving him what he already owns. He never moves. I give. He takes.

Panting and teetering near the edge, I beg him. I want his hands to roam over my body. I need to feel his desperation in each and every thrust. I ache for the pain, so I am reminded with every twinge, every wince that I am his everything in every sense of the word. It's his turn to show me.

I cage him in with my arms resting on either side of his head as he impatiently pulls me down his length. He buries himself deep inside of me roughly, and his teeth settle into the soft flesh at the base of my neck. He groans a guttural 'fuck' before I feel him still inside of me, just before his body jerks and his features tighten.

The madman retreats and the tenderness returns as he softens. Sensual, sweet murmurs of 'I love you' and 'I've missed you' are sealed with gentle kisses and tight hugs. The rest of our summer nights are spent in a similar fashion. We fight and fuck, claim and cling to each other, yet rarely communicate. It's what's to be expected from a stubborn boy and an insecure girl.

Hindsight is always 20/20. Looking back, I know now for sure that we were indeed just young and dumb.

"Check the shitter," I hear Emmett yell to Rose from the house, interrupting my trip down memory lane.

* * *

By the time I get back to the deck, Rose has the table set and Mags strapped into a high chair while Em pulls the corn off the grill.

"Did ya' at least give us a courtesy flush?" He jerks his chin at me and wags his brows before turning to Maggie. "Bella made a stinky."

Five minutes and a game of pick up my sippy cup later, Emmett places the platter of steaks at the head of the table. He looks eerily reminiscent of Clark W. Griswold presenting the turkey at Christmas dinner.

Conversation ceases as we fill our faces. Rose to this day eats her food like a critic. She slowly cuts and inspects it before placing a tiny bit in her mouth.

"Did you remember to season the meat?" She arches a brow, daring him to question her palate.

He places the pads of his thumb and middle finger together. "Rose. One does not _simply_ season the meat."

"You forgot didn't you?"

His silence speaks volumes when he shoves a forkful in his mouth, managing to pout and chew at the same time.

"So when do you fly out?" Rose asks, pointing her fork in my direction.

"Tuesday morning."

I prepare myself, expecting them to go all good cop/bad cop on me, interrogating me further on whether or not I intend to see Edward before I leave. Thankfully, the conversation steers in a different direction as Rose and Em begin reminiscing about my summers in Forks. They bring up the good times like skinny dipping in the community pool, bonfires at the beach, and our weekend camping trips. They skim over the rough periods like the barbeque and the handful of parties where Edward and I weren't speaking to each other. We laugh and joke for hours over dessert and coffee and a couple more beers. And for the first time in a long time, I feel truly at home.

* * *

We wave at Rose and a smiley Maggie as we pull away, just as it begins to rain.

The ride back to Forks is relatively quiet. I think about Emmett's words earlier in the evening, and while I don't believe the universe is necessarily trying to tell me something, I do think that Edward and I have unfinished business. I want to lay it all out on the table and let the chips fall where they may. I need to tell him everything that I should have five years ago, like the fact that I was a stupid, scared girl whose blazing insecurity led her to make a horrible decision. He needs to know that not a day goes by that I don't think about him. With each passing mile marker, the anticipation grows. I see the neon signs in the bar windows and know I can't wait another moment.

"Can you drop me off here?" I blurt loudly and not the least bit ashamed.

I notice Emmett is wearing a tight-lipped smile as he pulls into the parking lot, looking like he wants to say something.

"What?" I ask, wondering if he is going to give me more food for thought. He shakes his head and his grin widens. "Just spit it out, McCarty."

"Nah, it's nothing." He shrugs. "It's just good to have you home."

"Thanks." I lean over to hug him tightly.

He pats my back with his big mitts. "And stay off the pool table, I play here in a league on Tuesday nights."

The bar is fairly busy for a Sunday night. Thankfully, the Mariner's game is on, so no one notices that Charlie's daughter is back in town.

"What can I get ya'?" The cute, red-haired bartender asks, placing a napkin in front of me.

"Um, is Edward here?"

"You just missed him, honey." She puts her hand on her hip and leans on the bar. "Do you want me to give him a message?"

"No, thanks." I smile sweetly and turn to make my way to Fletcher Street.

* * *

Four blocks, two burning lungs, and a soaked outfit later, I make my way up his driveway. I push the wet hair out of my face and rub the mascara from under my eyes, not wanting to scare him with an Alice Cooper special. I'm about to knock when he pulls the door open.

"Hi," I say with an awkward wave.

"You're here." He pulls me in, shutting the door behind me. "And you're drenched. Let me get you a towel." I hear him rifling through drawers, and he comes back with a towel and a t-shirt. "Here, I mean, if you want to change."

I look around the room. Lumber and power tools are spread all over the floor of the hallway and living room.

"Sorry about the mess," he says, motioning to the wall that's been taken down to the studs. "Trying to get this place back together." I can tell he's nervous as he continues. "It's a sturdy house, you know. It's old and a little run down, but it managed to stand up to the constant rain all these years pretty well."

He crosses the room and switches on the light. "It's got a great foundation. I just need to fix a few bad decisions here and there." He laughs pointing at the mauve carpet and the hideous wallpaper.

"It will be amazing when it's put back together." I bite my lip, hoping that maybe we're not just talking about the house anymore.

He nods and looks at me seriously. "Yes, it will."

"Edward, I—"

"You want something to drink?" He asks, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge. "A beer or something?"

"How about coffee instead?"

"Coffee?" He smirks, quirking a questioning brow.

"Yeah." I sit at the table and pat the seat next to me. "I think we need to figure out where this leaves us."

* * *

**A/N: Dolls, let's welcome back my boo for real, Carrie ZM *Lay and Carrie do elaborate handshake and end with a chest bump***

**Pimpin' ain't easy – that's why we like to Let It WIP…**

_**The Man on Stage**_** by Dazzledin2008 – Mmm mmm mm… This is another hot little number brought to you by the writer of **_**The Mechanic**_**. So far this WIP has it all, a little fluff, a little heartfail, and a whole lot of sexy – it's SOFA KING hot! **

_**My Five Daughters**_** by tea4tulips – Sweet little story about a southern Nanny-ella, catching the eye of a Daddyward of five girls. This one will give you a toothache with all of its sweetness and sass. Check it out, dolls!**

**Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, rec'd and lurked this fic! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Rating M**

**Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyers owns all things Twilight – I just like to get them dirty**

**Special thanks to Carrie ZM for waving the beta wand on this bad bitch.**

**Shout outs and many thanks to Heather Maven and Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy  
****for pre-reading and putting their pervy seal of approval on this chapter.  
**

* * *

I lift my phone over my head, angling it just so. Admittedly, I'm the absolute worst at taking selfies. There must be an art to taking a good selfie or maybe being a double jointed contortionist is a requirement for taking one without involving a dirty bathroom mirror. Once I have the angle just right, making sure the cactus and I are both in the picture, the photo shoot begins.

Toothy grin. _Click_. Closed mouth Mona Lisa smile. _Click_. Smiling with my eyes. _Click_. Serious face. _Click_. Duck face. _Click_. Miley Cyrus tongue. _Click_.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mary Alice asks, her tone dripping with mockery. "Give me that," she says snatching the phone from my hand. "Do you want the cactus in the shot?"

"Obviously," I fluff my hair and resume my previous pose. "Make sure my chins don't show."

"You're ridiculous," she snorts, backing up a little and raising the phone over my head to snap the shot. "Kneel down a bit." I hear about twelve clicks before she hands me the phone. "There you go."

I scroll through the pictures quickly, find one and fire off a quick text. _Saying goodbye to Phoenix. _I barely get inside to get one last look around before my phone beeps with his reply. _Hurry home, beautiful. _I smile at his words, quickly messaging back. _I'll call you from the road in a bit. _

"So this is really happening, huh?" I hear her footsteps behind me, clicking across the tile, and echoing throughout the empty living room. "You're really leaving me," She leans against the doorway in the kitchen, crosses her arms over her chest and smirks. "Say it ain't so, Swan."

Her easy smile lets me know that she has finally wrapped her head around the whole Edward thing. Her initial reaction to the news still surprises me. Normally, she's such a romantic. The kind of gal who always sees the glass half full. I suppose her outlook could change, especially if looking at the glass half full results in her best friend moving nearly 1600 miles away.

"Yep, I'm being magically whisked away to sunny Forks. Don't be jealous," I joke as I close the blinds.

"Who wouldn't be jealous?" she snorts. "You get to hang around a bar and wear flannel all the time. I'm really, uh…" She trails off before clearing her throat. "I'm really happy for you, ya' know?"

I nod slowly. I can tell we are both on the verge of bursting into tears, so I try to keep it light. "Speaking of which, what are we wearing today, sister?" I motion to her head-to-toe boot-scootin-boogie get-up. "It's fucking August in Phoenix, why are you dressed like Sissy from Urban Cowboy?"

"Do you like them?" She asks, kicking out her leg to show me the colorful designs of the boot. "I'm breaking them in for my date tonight," She starts shuffling and stomping. "Jasper is taking me two-stepping."

"Ahh, I see. How many times have you been out with this guy?"

"This is our third date in eight days." She wags her brows, letting me know that she'll be riding this bucking bronco by the end of the evening if she hasn't already. "Wanna see a picture?" She whips out her phone and scrolls through the pictures on his Facebook page until she finds an acceptable full length photo for me to '_ooh and ahh_' over.

"That's a big ass belt buckle," I say, gawking at the ginormous, silver oval with the gigantic 'J' in the middle.

"I know, right?" She sighs dreamily. "I hope there's a big ass dick he's hiding behind it."

"I can't stop staring, it's like a codpiece," I mutter, as she grabs her phone and clutches it to her heart. "You should be able to get a good read on it while you're dancing tonight."

"Oh honey, I'm way ahead of you." She dismisses me with a wave of her hand. "Who do you think came up with the plan to get close to the codpiece?"

"You're diabolical."

"I can't wait." She smears some gloss across her lips, finishing with a pucker, a pop and a wink. "We're gonna dance all night, 'til that belt buckle shines."

We burst into a fit of giggles and snorts. This is how I will remember my time in Phoenix. Laughing loudly and musing inappropriately with Mary Alice. I know I am giving up a lot, but I also know that I'm getting so much more.

When our laughter subsides, we each grab my bags and head out to the parking lot. Side-by-side, we pack the car in silence, both of us smiling, trying to hide the sadness we feel. I shut the trunk and take one last glance at the place I've called home for many years. I blow out a deep breath, knowing I am happily giving up the sunny heat, the mesquite trees and the view of South Mountain in the distance for the lush greenery and cloud-covered comfort of Forks.

Mary Alice is frantically waving her hands in front of her eyes, trying to keep her tears at bay. I can feel myself on the verge of bawling my face off as well, so I have to make this goodbye quick. I pull her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly.

"I feel like I should say something profound," she says, as we break our embrace to wipe our eyes, checking for rogue mascara trails in the car window reflection.

"Like what?" I ask, opening the car door and throwing my purse on the seat. "You're my touchstone, Emma?"

"God, no!" she snorts and jokingly pushes me. "Why on earth would you ever bring Terms of Endearment into this?" We both laugh remembering the many tear-filled movie nights with Shirley McClaine and Debra Winger. "I was thinking more along the lines of, '_Stay gold, Pony Boy_.'"

"Good call," I say, sliding into the car. "Nothing says '_I'll miss you_' like the image of Ralph Macchio burnt up and clinging to life in a hospital bed."

"Yeah, I think we're kind of bad at this. How about you just text me when you get there, and we'll do the FaceTime thing on Sunday night?"

"You got it," I tell her, shutting my door behind me and starting up the car.

I look at her one last time before pulling away. No words are necessary. No long goodbyes or '_I'll miss you_'. She kisses her hand and places it against my window. I do the same, pressing my palm on the glass against hers. It's her way of giving her blessing, and my way of thanking her for understanding.

And our way of saying 'see you soon'.

* * *

Merging onto the I-10, I tap the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel and instruct it to 'call Edward'.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, picking up on the second ring.

"Hey," I sigh, loving the sound of his rough morning voice surrounding me in stereo.

"You on the road?"

"Yeah, but I'm not moving much with rush hour traffic and all." I flip my signal and pray someone will be kind enough to let me over. "It's brutal."

"I'll bet. So you're driving through to Redding tonight?"

"That's the plan. What do you have going on today?"

He fills me in on his plans for the day, which include him and Emmett finishing up the painting in the living room and hallway. The renovations are coming along quite nicely in such a short period of time. The mauve carpet and questionable wallpaper are gone, replaced by hardwood floors and paint colors of my choosing. Piece by piece, we're putting the once beautiful home back together and lovingly erasing the bad decisions that marred it for so long.

"So, are you going to FaceTime me when you get to the hotel?"

"Yeah, unless the Wi-Fi sucks, then I'll just call."

"Alright, well drive safe and call me if you get tired."

"I will."

"Love you."

"Love you, too."

"Bye."

* * *

Six hours, two bathroom breaks, and one and a half Starbucks trenta-sized iced coffees later, I'm stuck in traffic again. Only this time, I'm sitting bumper to bumper in sunny L.A. I have my windows rolled down, trying to soak up the last bit of heat and sunshine before I turn vitamin D deficient in Forks. Trucker arm be damned.

Unfortunately, I'm stuck right next to a young couple fighting. I should be ashamed of myself, eavesdropping like I am. I can't help it though; they remind me so much of Edward and me.

They can't be a day over eighteen, riding around in a busted up pick-up truck. She's screaming and swearing, poking his bicep and counting off his infractions on her fingers. Meanwhile, he's gripping the steering wheel, gritting his teeth and bearing the brunt of every ounce of crazy she's throwing at him. Every once in a while, he tries to interject, only to be cut off by a screeching '_how dare you_' or one of my favorite fighting phrases '_go fuck yourself_'. They seem to be almost exactly like us in the fact that they're passionate and possessive, proud and pigheaded.

I can't quite make out all of their words over the hum of the engines and the reverberation of booming bass sounding from the car behind me. He may very well deserve every bit of her fury, but when she turns to me, I instantly recognize the expression. Cold indifference colors her pretty features. She's resolute and writhing in her rightness. It's the sadness in her eyes that lets me know that this is merely an act of self-preservation.

I know a thing or two about self-preservation. Guarding my heart cost me years of happiness with Edward. It's hard to believe that only two months have passed since our reunion and subsequent relationship rekindling. I remember the night we finally talked it out. My vision becomes hazy as the memory becomes crystal clear.

Sitting across the table from him, coming clean and pouring my heart out about the real reason I left. Repeating his words aloud, the ones that damn near broke me and clouded my judgment. _I thought about it. I seriously considered it. But I didn't._ Watching his face crumble as he realizes how his painfully honest words set our demise in motion. He scoots close to me, taking my hand in his, kissing my knuckles between his desperate apologies. The sincerity in his voice and his face is undeniable. Although it holds no bearing on the present, I feel I'm owed an explanation. I can't seem to stop myself from asking him '_why_'. Why say _those_ words?

His eyes meet mine and his grip tightens on my hand. It's like he's warning me that I won't like what I'm about to hear. I try to silence the thoughts spinning around my head, convicting him of anything and everything that I can think of.

"I'd never do that to you, Bella," he whispers against our entwined fingers. "Never did, never have, never will." He licks his lips, looking a bit wary. "I remember saying those words. And I'll never forgive myself for making you think that I'd ever do that to you. It was a lie. At the time, I just wanted to," he pauses, gathering the nerve to deliver his own brand of truth. "I wanted to hurt you."

"Why?" I explode, ripping my hand from his grasp.

His chair roughly scrapes across the tile, backing away from me like I'm a ticking time bomb. He runs his hand nervously through his hair, yanking a fistful in frustration while his knee bounces rapidly beneath the table. I see his jaw clench and unclench when I slam my hand on the table, repeating my question once more, demanding an answer.

"I wanted a reaction. I wanted reassurance." He spits the words at me and the expression on his face makes me think that they taste as bad as they hurt. "I wanted you to give me a reason to believe you gave a shit."

I stare at him blankly wondering how he could ever question my feelings for him. "I don't understand."

"You were always pulling away, Bella," he explains quietly, his eyes fixed on mine. "You always had one foot out the door. It felt like you were waiting for an out or for a reason to end it."

I rapidly shake my head, denying his words, but deep down I know they're true. This isn't the first time I've heard it either. It is however, the first time I've heard it from someone who matters enough to make me want to stop running.

"Think back, Bella," He tells me and begins ticking off his fingers. "It was you who didn't want to be official during the school year. You were the one who blew off the phone calls those last few weeks. And the fact that you were so indifferent about missing our weekly calls made me think that…" he trails off, looking away. "…maybe you found someone else." His voice shakes as his eyes meet mine again. "I told myself you would never." He clears his throat. "Could never do that to me. But I swear, sometimes Bella you could be so cold."

_Cold_.

The word hangs heavy in the air. I seem to recall both James and Paul describing me as this in their parting words. My face heats with embarrassment and tears pool in the corners of my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," I whisper before completely breaking down into a full-on ugly cry.

"Jesus. No, Bella," he says softly, kneeling in front of me and wrapping his arms around me tightly. "I'm the one who's sorry. What I said to you was fucked up. I should've never said that to you."

We sit like that for what feels like hours. He strokes my hair, murmuring apologies and placing tiny kisses on the top of my head. With each of his pleas for forgiveness, I cry harder, soaking his shirt in the process.

"None of it matters anymore." I croak, taking his hand in mine. "We were both wrong. It changes nothing."

"It changes everything," he corrects.

We spend the next couple of days wrapped up in each other and make every moment count as we work together to reconcile the present and release the past. We finally come together on the morning of my departure, reconnecting the way we should have in the bar. Every touch is tender and reverent, slow and loving, saying both 'hello' and 'goodbye'.

We cling to each other at the airport, completely oblivious to the prying eyes of the passengers waiting to get through security. We whisper our goodbyes and recite the promises we made at the end of each of our summers together. Things are different this time. Walking away from him knowing that he loves me is so much harder than running away all those years ago thinking he didn't.

An obnoxious car horn blares from behind me, startling both me from my thoughts and the now kissing couple in the next lane. Crimson flushes over her copper cheeks as the corners of her mouth turn up into a small, hopeful smile. Unfortunately for me, my lane is not moving. I watch as the beat-up truck rumbles and rattles, then sputters forward to exit the freeway, and I can't help but wonder if those two will make it.

* * *

Nearly ten hours later, I collapse onto the bed, crawling under the cold sheets, and settle in to FaceTime Edward. This is our nightly routine and has been ever since we rekindled our romance two months ago.

His handsome face appears on the screen, shrouded in darkness save for the blue neon lights of the beer signs around the bar.

He smiles brightly. "Hey, beautiful." I can barely hear him over the voices and music in the background.

"You finally made it to Redding?"

I nod and cover my mouth, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Tired, baby?"

"I am. Although I've done nothing but sit on my ass for almost sixteen hours."

A Frankie Valli song starts up on the jukebox, and I hear the unmistakable voices of Carlisle and Emmett singing along in a truly frightening falsetto. Edward looks behind him and laughs before facing me again.

"Did you finish painting today?"

"Well," he says, drawing out the word. "We got a lot done, but we spent most of the afternoon at the hospital."

"What happened?" I ask, sitting up in my bed, instantly on alert. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he says with a small chuckle. He swings the phone around and I see Emmett, sitting at the bar, drinking his beer, sporting an eye patch. "The big guy got paint in his eye and scratched his cornea during his freak out."

Em smiles and raises his bottle to me, World's Most Interesting Man style. Carlisle nudges his way onto the screen, smiling and waving. By the looks of those two, I can tell they're shitfaced. Edward's going to have his hands full tonight.

I chat with them for a bit, catching up and making tentative plans to get together once I get settled. Some guy I don't recognize taps Em on the shoulder and hands him a pool cue.

"I'm up," Emmett says to the group, but not before lifting the eyebrow of his good eye accusingly in my direction, then Edward's. He smirks evilly and makes a lewd gesture with the pool cue before walking away.

Edward turns the screen around to face him once again and mutters something about 'dirty pool'.

Never one to miss an opportunity to use his favorite one liner, Emmett responds in kind. "That's what she said!"

I see Edward shake his head before calling over his shoulder to Carlisle, telling him to watch the bar and that he'll be back in ten minutes.

"So what time do you think you'll get in tomorrow night?" he asks, shutting the door to his office behind him.

"I plan to leave at about five in the morning. The GPS says it's almost eleven hours so, I'm thinking with stops and lunch, I'll get there around four or five in the evening."

"Perfect," he says, plopping into his chair. "So listen, I ran into Ben Cheney today."

It takes a second for the name to register, but I'm pretty sure I know him. "I think I remember him. Short guy, blonde, dated Angela Weber?"

"That's him. He and Ang are married now, though. They may even have kids, but I'm not sure." He shrugs his shoulders and leans forward. "Anyway, he was actually telling me that there's going to be a job opening at the hospital soon."

I sigh and prop my head on my hand. "Oh yeah?" I ask with a bit too much bite, so I try to take it down a notch. "Too bad I don't have an ounce of medical experience."

The job situation is a bit of a sensitive subject for me. Receiving a rejection letter is always hard, but getting a rejection letter for a job that you consider a lifeline to what you want most in life is downright devastating. Jobs in the Forks area are scarce. Right now my only viable options are a paper route or peddling fishing lures at Newton Outfitters, sporting a camo smock and camo ain't my color. He must sense my frustration as he nervously continues.

"It's a public relations position. I don't know exactly what it entails, but he mentioned press releases and written and electronic communication stuff..." He trails off, gauging my reaction before continuing. "And I kind-of, might've told him that you'd be interested."

I stare at him blankly, letting him sweat it a bit. Normally, I'm not a big one on letting someone speak for me, but he's been so encouraging, I can't help but love him more for his meddling.

"That actually sounds great," I say, with a small smile and a hint of hope lacing my tone.

"Good," he says, obviously relieved, rocking back and forth in his office chair.

"It looks like you've got your work cut out for you tonight with Carlisle and Patches out there."

He laughs, bobbing his head in agreement. "Yes, I do." He watches me try to conceal another yawn. "You need to get some sleep, beautiful."

"I know. I just wanted to say good night."

He stares at me, rubbing his thumb across his jaw. I can't read the expression on his face other than the intensity in his eyes.

"What?" I ask, trying to decipher the change in his mood.

He shakes his head and the corners of his lips curve into a soft smile. "Nothing, I just can't believe you're coming home." He struggles to find the right words. "It's what I've wanted for so long, you know?" I nod, knowing exactly what he means as he finishes. "It just doesn't feel real."

"It's real, Edward," I speak softly, reassuring him that it's all I've wanted as well.

He regards me for a moment more. The reverence in his eyes is obvious, even without the mouthed 'I love you'.

"Love you, too." I reply with a sleepy smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Before I know it, the alarm from my phone is blaring from the nightstand. Admittedly, I surprise myself by forgoing the typical groan and begrudgingly drag my ass to the shower routine. Nervous energy practically vibrates from my body as I shave and scrub and buff every inch of my skin. Surely after thirty-seven days apart, he'll want to have his wicked way with me the moment I get there. I chuckle to myself, imagining a romp on the porch swing. What a fun way to introduce myself to the fine folks of Fletcher Street.

I feel my skin flush thinking of all the possibilities for our reunion tonight. I highly doubt there will be candlelight and romance with rose petals leading up to the bedroom. That's just not us, although given our spontaneous getaway to Vegas last month; I'd say he's more than capable of surprising me.

The steam billows throughout the bathroom when I step out of the shower. I go to wipe the mirror and the moment my fingers touch the cool glass, memories of our last night together overwhelm me. The images come in quick succession, and all I see are flickers of the foggy window, our skin, our sweat. I blow out a deep breath, feeling suddenly heated. I'm unable to drown out the sounds we made, our desperation audible in every single gasp and grunt.

Dabbing the moisturizer on my cheeks, I think about exactly how we got to this point so quickly. Normally, I'm such an overly cautious person. I never jump in with both feet. Always looking before I leap. And then I usually look again and think better of it. To say not getting the job in Port Angeles was a setback is quite an understatement. I remember making that FaceTime call to Edward and seeing his face fall as I read the words, 'we regret to inform you'. I swear I feel my chest tighten when I think back to that week. Feeling the weight of the world on our shoulders, we wonder why the universe is fucking with us by putting up yet another roadblock preventing us from being together.

I smile at my reflection, replaying the memory in my mind.

I'm sitting at work, wallowing in my misery as I scroll through the available work in and around Forks. I see his face and name light up on my phone screen. I'm somewhat startled by the mid-morning call since we normally text throughout the day and talk in the evening. I barely finish saying my hello before he begins speaking urgently.

"I need to see you."

His tone is hurried and I hear drawers being opened and closed in the background when he asks if I think I can get home, packed and to the airport by 5:00 PM. I tell him I think that a migraine can be arranged to buy me a couple of hours. Nearly four hours later, I hand my ticket to the flight attendant and board the plane for Vegas.

My heart races the moment the plane touches down, and I have to stop myself from breaking into a full on sprint to the taxi stand. As soon as we turn onto the strip, I shoot Edward a quick text, letting him know I'll be arriving at the hotel shortly. He responds instantly that he'll meet me in the lobby. I practically throw the bills at the cab driver as I slide out of the car. My eyes search the lobby wildly as I start making my way through the sea of tourists. And then he's there. And I'm in his arms. He pulls me close, breathes me in. Though I admit I imagined a heated lip lock, the way he's holding me feels far more intimate.

He pulls me by the hand as he pushes his way through the crowd, weaving in and out of clusters of slot machines and blackjack tables. The elevator doors open and I fully expect to be thrown up against them the minute they close, that is until an older couple boards. We stand in the back of the elevator, our eyes trained on the numbers as we climb. By the time we reach five, he's pressed tightly against my back and I can feel every inch. When we hit the twelfth floor, his denim covered cock is rocking ever so slightly against the palm of my hand. By eighteen, his fingers are stealthily sliding beneath the hem of my skirt. The moment he closes the door to our room, I'm pressed up against it.

We spend the next sixteen hours making the most of our time together, wrapped in sheets and each other. We laugh and talk and rack up a huge room service bill. When we do finally decide to leave the friendly confines of our hotel room, we head out for dinner and drinks and take in a show at a nearby whiskey bar. Edward croons along with the cover band in my ear.

"You're so delicious. You're so… soft." He sings low against my cheek while his finger skims down the center of my neck and traces across the top of my strapless dress. "Sweet on the tip of my tongue."

I can't say for sure if it's the suggestiveness of the lyrics, his voice, or the feel of his touch on my skin, but whatever it is, it makes my thighs clench involuntarily. "Let's go back to the room." He looks confused, apparently not catching my drift so I place my lips against his. "Don't you want to taste me?"

Once again, he drags me by the hand through the lobby where we nearly bump into another deliriously happy couple. She's wearing a white dress, while he wears a suit and a smile. When we get to the elevators, they continue in the direction of the chapel. Edward hesitates for a moment and watches them before looking to me.

Maybe it's the booze, but I swear a silent conversation takes place in the matter of a couple of seconds. He arches his brow as if to say, '_what do you think'_. I bite my lip in response, telling him '_I don't know'_. He stares seriously and tightens his grip on my hand and brings it to his lips placing a small kiss on the knuckle of my ring finger. Somehow thiskiss feels like a promise.

We watch the numbers climb again, the anticipation is thick, but this time for a different reason.

"What time do you have to be to the airport tomorrow?" I ask, placing my hand over his chest.

His eyes don't meet mine, staying fixed on the floor numbers. "Two o'clock."

"What time is it now?" I pull his arm to look at his watch and see that it's just after 1:30 AM.

"A little over twelve hours left." His thumb rubs over the back of my hand, and I'm not sure if he's doing it to calm me or himself.

This time he doesn't press me up against the door. Instead, I walk to the floor to ceiling window resting my forehead and palms against it to watch the fountains below dance and sway in perfect synchronization. Behind me, he drops a couple of ice cubes into a glass and pours himself a drink from the mini bar.

"Want one?"

My nose skims the glass as I shake my head. A moment later his cold, whiskey soaked lips press softly against my heated shoulder while his hand grips me tightly around the waist.

"Mmm," I moan when his teeth nip their way up the side of my neck. "Have I thanked you for doing all of this yet?"

"No, you haven't," he tells me, tracing his finger down my jaw line before turning my chin towards him sharply. His voice drops in time with his hand tugging the zipper down my back. "But you're about to."

My skin prickles, erupting in goose bumps when my cheek and chest are pushed flush against the cold glass as the dress falls to the floor. He stretches my arms over my head, bracing my hands on either side of the window and kneeing my legs apart, spreading me wide.

"How do you plan on thanking me, Bella?" he asks in a whisper and presses his hardness into my back. He places loud open-mouthed kisses along my shoulder blade. "Tell me."

His demand contradicts his careful handling of me. I don't want cautious. I crave the carnal chaos he's caging, the madness and the mayhem. My body is aching to ease his tension, borderline desperate to feel and fuel his fury and frustration.

I want to incite the madman.

"Answer me," he commands, roughly shoving his hand into the front of my panties.

My breath comes out in small pants, fogging the glass as I garner the courage to plead for my pleasure.

"I want," I murmur softly.

"Louder!"

"I want… to please you."

"How?"

"Pleasure you." I start, grinding into his hand cupping my pussy. "I want to suck and swallow you." He grips me tighter, two fingers covering my clit. "I want to feel every inch of you stretching me," I whine when he grasps it roughly, rubbing the tender flesh raw. "I want you to finger fuck me."

"Yes," he hisses, sliding his finger inside.

"Harder!" I gasp when another finger follows. "Bend me over." I hear his fingers circling within. "Hold me down." He opens and closes them, scissoring inside of me until I can't stop myself from moaning out my deepest desires. "I want you to fuck me until you've had your fill."

He grabs my hair and kisses me hard while his hand roughly works me below. My nipples pucker and harden as they drag and scrape across the cold glass.

"I love that fuckin' filthy mouth of yours," he mumbles, running his tongue over my bottom lip, nipping it gently. "And I'm going to enjoy fucking it, too."

I whimper when he pulls away, withdrawing his fingers from my hair and panties. I keep my eyes closed and my face pressed against the window, listening to the sound of his belt buckle and pants dropping to the floor.

"Get on your knees, beautiful." I turn and kneel in front of him. He looks down at me wearing nothing but a sexy smirk on his face. He grabs his drink off the table and takes a swig, letting the liquor pool in his mouth before swallowing it down. "Please me."

I take him in, curling my fingers around him, teasing and tonguing his length. He watches me open wide, sliding his shaft in and out and tracing my tongue and teeth over his tender tip. His hands find my hair again and he holds my head, controlling the pace as his hips pump.

"There you go, baby," he groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Take it." I grab his thighs, holding them tightly while he drives his dick deeper down my throat. After awhile, his soft pants turn into rough grunts and his fingers tighten, pulling me off of him. "Get on the bed."

He doesn't need to tell me twice. I scurry onto the bed, crawling on all fours to brace myself against the headboard. I don't hear him approach. I just feel my panties being pulled roughly and his long, cold tongue enter me from behind. His fingers dip and circle inside of me, flicking and nipping at my clit. He holds my legs open, lifting me slightly so his stubble scrapes and scratches me just so. I hear him lap and snarl over my screams into the pillow. I come up for air just as he rights himself, grips my hips and impales me.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asks, grunting as he penetrates and pounds me ferociously. "Huh, Bella?" He grabs the back of my neck, bowing my back and plunging in deeper. "You want to let me have my fill?"

"Anything you want," I gasp, barely able to finish before he pulls out and turns me over, pinning my arms above my head.

Hovering above me, I see his eyes glaze over, completely lost in the sensation. It's the madman. He roars and rages and curses as he slams into me so hard the slapping of our skin sounds thunderous. I lift my hips and wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. His fingers dig into my flesh when he comes apart, exploding inside of me as I quiver all around him. He collapses, resting his head on my sweaty heaving chest. I feel him shake his head.

"I'll never get my fill of you," he says softly into the crook of my neck just before I fall asleep.

When I wake in the morning, his eyes are on me and it's obvious that he didn't sleep a wink. He traces lazy shapes into the palm of my hand.

"Good morning," I mumble, nuzzling into his chest. The rise and fall of his chest nearly lulls me back to sleep when he finally speaks.

"Come home, Bella." I don't look at him. I can't. So he repeats himself. "Come home."

"I wish I could," I say, rolling over and staring at the ceiling. "But it's just not the right time," I reason with him and myself. "I don't have a job or an apartment." I shrug one shoulder. "I mean, I want to be there. I just can't get there yet."

I plead with my eyes for him to understand, but his pleas prove far more convincing when he rolls on top of me.

"Do you want to be with me, Bella?" he asks, kissing across my chest. I nod, closing my eyes, enjoying the feel of his tongue circling my nipple. "I want you physically with me every day," he says hoarsely, spreading me with his fingers. "In our house," he continues, hardening against me. "I don't want to wait anymore. I don't want to waste any more time." He lines up, pushes forward and pleads once more, letting me know he's all in. "Please?"

"Yessssss," I breathe out slowly, letting him know I'm all in as well.

The fog clears on the bathroom mirror and the memory dissipates as well. My phone pings and an incoming text pops up on the screen. _Hurry home_. So that's exactly what I do.

* * *

A little over eleven hours later, I turn onto Fletcher Street, pull into our driveway and kill the engine. I hear the screen door slam and then I see him coming down the stairs. And just like before, he takes me in his arms and squeezes me tightly. It's like he wants to make sure it's real.

"You made it," he says, kissing my temple. "Come on, I've got a surprise for you."

Instead of pulling me to the house, he pulls me to my car.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he opens the passenger side door.

"It's a surprise." I quirk my brow, he knows I'm not big on surprises. "You'll love it," he promises just before kissing me convincingly.

"I'm so tired," I say with a yawn, curling up in my seat. "I've been driving for days."

"Sleep on the way. I'll wake you up when we get there." He starts the engine and I fall asleep before we even hit the highway.

It only feels like moments later when I feel him nudging me, telling me to 'wake up' and that 'we're here'. I open my eyes to the sun setting over the Port Angeles fairgrounds. The sounds of carnival music and the sweet smell of funnel cake float all around us. I feel his eyes on me as I see it for the first time - our old ending, our new beginning.

Hand-in-hand, we walk the soggy fairgrounds. Edward eats his weight in cotton candy while I nearly break my teeth on some kettle corn. He pulls me toward the double Ferris wheel line, smirking slyly.

We both look up and marvel at the towering ride illuminating the night sky.

"Double your pleasure, double your fun with the ups, downs and all-arounds on the Circles of Life," the fast talking ticket taker entices the crowd as we step up onto the platform. "Tickets, please."

Edward hands him our tickets and he instructs us to wait behind the red line for the next available seat.

"Hands, arms, feet and legs in the seat at all times, folks" The elderly carnie says to us, flashing all of his eight teeth in a knowing smile as he secures us in our seat. "Hold on tight to her now, son."

"I will," Edward says quietly, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"Enjoy the ride, you two." With a nod and a wink, the man pulls a lever and we swoop backwards into the air. I hear him begin his spiel again about circles of life and the ups and downs.

Suspended high over the fairgrounds, I turn the carnie's words over and over in my head. Perhaps it's not just a shtick to go along with an aptly named amusement ride. Maybe the guy is far more perceptive than I initially thought. Watching the other riders, I can see it so clearly.

There's a teenage girl screaming her head off, clutching her seat for dear life while the guy she's riding with bounces and shakes and rocks the car. Beneath them, there's a girl who looks to be a few years older than me, smiling bright with her arms in the air. Right behind her, there are two little girls and a dad giggling and squealing, yelling "whoa" with each and every drop.

Life's funny like that.

Sometimes you get on the ride with a real asshole that completely rocks your world and not in a good way. Sometimes you have to be brave enough to go it alone. Sometimes you're surrounded by friends and family who make the drops more bearable and maybe even a little bit fun.

And sometimes… Just sometimes, you have to go backwards to go forwards. And when you do, you finally get on the ride with that one person who you're meant to be with. The one that will hold you close and laugh with you through all the ups, and grip you even tighter through the downs, never once letting go.

I feel his hand on my knee and his lips at my ear. I close my eyes and smile as his cotton candy warmth washes over my face.

And I'm home.

* * *

**A/N: That's all for these two folks. Long A/N tonight – so let's start it off by letting it WIP:**

_**Prey for the Wicked by Aleeab4u**_** - ****A vampire finds the true meaning of temptation, an innocent beauty with a siren's blood. Need and curiosity ignite endless possibility, but is she ****prey**** for the ****wicked**** or the answer to a prayer for salvation? When obsession has no reason and love knows no bounds, where do you draw the line? AU E/B Darkward Mature themes. Non-canon vampires. No sparkling, vegetarianism or venom.**

_**Boundaries Undefined by Mylisssa**_** - ****High school is a raging screaming battle that's mostly in her head. She won't be happy until she has him, but hell if she'll ever tell him. She sees only deception in his deepest truths, while he doesn't know the falsehoods of what he reads from her actions. Someone has to bend or the other will break. AH E/B**

**Tonight, in addition to our usual Let It WIP recs, I am going to give a shout out to some new authors who are popping their Twilight fanfic writing cherry. I had a wonderful experience as a first-time writer in the fandom and I would love it if you guys would help me pay it forward by supporting and encouraging the talents of these writers, because today's newbies may someday be your old faves.**

**Without further ado, here are the Like A Virgin fic recs:**

**Fate, Love and Second Chances by Nightviz  
Lilim Division – SirVaden  
Rolling in the Deep – Riv3rBoy84**

**Special thanks to CarrieZM, LovinRob, Robsmyyummy Cabanaboy, and Heather Maven for the hours of work you guys put in to this fic, the constant encouragement, the brutal honesty, the pimpage and your dirty girl endorsement on this product. You gals all mean the world to me and I could never, ever thank you enough for all you've done.**

**Special shout out to my Triangle of Curls Girls who keep me sane and laughing on the daily. AmandaC3 for the Phoenix fact finding chat. And big love to Planetblue for your friendship and epic hand-holding throughout the DTE – your positivity is contagious my friend.**

**So…. My next fic is in the works. I'm looking forward to getting back to my fun and snarky roots as we head back to high school and take a look at mean girls. CarrieZM and Planetblue made me promise to complete before posting, so it may be a bit. Feel free to put me on alert if you are interested.**

**As always, thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed, fav'd, rec'd, pimped, tweeted and lurked this fic! I appreciate it! **

**Stay classy, fandom! LAHM out!**


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